


Hear Watch You Say (that you only meant well?)

by miilky



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, Implied Character Death, Tragic Romance, free form, philip always dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5771287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miilky/pseuds/miilky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He built cathedrals out of paragraphs, but she would never kneel to pray, so she opted to run instead. Philip really needs to take some cues from the Burr's family motto, "Smile more, talk less."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hear Watch You Say (that you only meant well?)

_He built cathedrals out of paragraphs, but she would never kneel to pray,_ soshe opted to run instead, and didn’t stop running until she made that right corner into the busy section. Her throat had constricted, her heart burned, and the soles of her feet were pinched and chaffed. But she refused to slow down until that right corner was turned. She heard his steps behind her, casually refined-knowingly subtle, and she worried the side of her cheek, unable to understand how she had resorted to these defenseless, evasive tactics.

Her skirts were thick and light enough to conceal her steps. Although she ran in a huff her face showed no signs of distress, and was pleasantly warm in the late November heat. Her curls bounced as she nodded in greeting to several persons, and with apologetic gestures she evaded those persons as well, minding to pass an attentive stare behind her. And there he was, continuing to stride. His steps were loud and clamoring, _a determined man_ , dangerously close, and there was no restraint to his movements. 

Men and women trailed after him, curious as to why he moved so blithely, so arrogantly but curiously absent, detached from the world. He smiled and waved, nodded in kindness and familiarity. But he was a man transfixed on something, a fleeting figure, a projection of the bleeding sun’s light? But his illusion, his ghost, was very real, very touchable, and in range of his fingers, just a few feet away.

She looked back and couldn’t see him. Downtown was congested at the hour, and she breathed slowly, the rush settling on her face. Her cheeks tightness lessened, and the blood drained smoothly down her face, swimming back to its rightful places. In her haste she had traveled down a lazily lite alley way, and she recognized the trail, knowing if she made a left, then another, and one last right she wouldn’t be far long from her home.

“Theodosia.”

He said her name simply, collected, faintly, and with it came a storm of lightening and thunder, furious rain drowning her as she spun to face him. Even in this light his freckles spotted like stars, mocking her with their ever present radiance, and the panic that had once flushed her turned to anger. She clenched her hands, letting her skirts drop in dirtied puddles, and lifted her shoulders defiantly.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she snipped at him, tilting her head to the side lightly, “sneaking up behind a lady like that would make them second guess your upbringing.”

His laughter was a whispering chuckle, “Everyone seems to second guess my upbringing these days, but that’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Oh?” Lifting her head haughtily, “I am going to assume you mean me? Well, don’t be. There’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m stronger than you think.”

“I never meant to hurt you-,”

“No, I don’t think you did.” She swallowed thickly, hating the way it tasted as it ran down her throat, “But you knew you _could_. With your words you create unimaginable beauty, heavens so close that you can feel the Divine’s very presence, and to bring upon misery so bitter and acidic, that even Hell’s fires cannot match its abhorrence.”

She refused to spill tears over him. So they didn't scorch her cheeks, or fall into a puddle below, or think to ruin her carefully applied position. His expression crumbled; ashen, crestfallen, unable to accept. His outstretched hand with its trembling fingers folded, and withered like the last summer rose. It was the first time he could not counter her; the first time he found himself speechless. He was defenseless against her exhausted assault, and though she looked at him with sympathy dearest of heart, she turned away. Her back receded as the rest of her body was stolen into the outside world’s golden light, leaving him in that narrow alley, hounded in the middle of the open, greyish blue skies, and the murky, damp alley.

Philip felt he was being pulled back, further than down, and could find no words to describe the ache in his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> It isn't the matter of what he said, but how it effected Theo. You can make up whatever you want. I don't even know what he said. That's how far I got on this, but the song is so catchy!


End file.
